


Cold

by Emersis



Series: Wholesome week 2 [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Betrayal, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Post-Election, Tommy doesn't know who to trust, Tubbo is anxious and just wants his friend to answer, Unedited unbetaed we die like revolutionaries, at least that's what it started as, not shipping!!, wholesome week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26627176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emersis/pseuds/Emersis
Summary: Scouting, Wilbur had called it.Tommy didn't want to call it that. Scouting was what he did when they were setting the borders of a nation. And what was the point of setting borders if they were getting L'manburg back?Written for wholesome week but ended up not being wholesome oops.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: Wholesome week 2 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937062
Comments: 7
Kudos: 209





	Cold

It felt cold without the L'manburg uniform on.

It was something he had grown so accustomed to that the lightweight, highly mobile garb of Pogtopia left him shivering every time wind gusted past him. He was out on the plains beyond the river near Pogtopia, and the wind there was brutal and chilling without the shelter of any structures or trees.

Scouting, Wilbur had called it.

Tommy didn't want to call it that. Scouting was what he did when they were setting the borders of a nation. And what was the point of setting borders if they were getting L'manburg back? They would be getting it back. They had to. Tommy would rather die than give it up.

He almost had many times before.

_(He shivers again, and again tells himself its the lack of the heavy army jacket he was used to wearing. Nothing else. Not a lack of the familiar people he had grown to trust and love. Not a lack of the safety of L'manburg's walls. Not a lack of Tubbo's laughter and following footsteps, not at all. )_

He'd rather call it an adventure, he decides to himself. Simple exploration of the wild areas. Nothing more serious than that.

He decidedly ignores the fact that he feels hunted. Unsafe and exposed out in the open. He couldn't help but feel like danger was lurking nearby, a feeling he thought he had gotten rid of after the war was over. He thought he was done having to watch his back at all times.

He misses Tubbo.

Things were so much easier with a second set of trusted eyes. With soft laughter at his side. With little blurted tidbits of information only half-relevant to what they were doing. With someone to talk to and scream with and pretend like he felt confident. Tommy did not feel confident now.

He hated the way he silently slunk from hill to hill, using what little cover the plains offered. He hated the way he kept blaming the wind as if he had someone here to pretend for. He hated that being scared and lonely felt like ice creeping up his fingers and all the way into his heart and lungs. He hated that when he returned to the base and slipped into his cot, underground and under covers that kept him physically warm, that he no longer had wind to blame.

He hates that without that wind he can hear Tubbo's frantic whispers in his ears.

_"Tommy?"_

_"Please help Tommy, I'm scared."_

_"Where are you?"_

He brings his hand to his mouth, picturing Tubbo in his head, putting as much detail as he can into the mental image. He knows that all he has to do is whisper and will it to arrive to it's intended hearer. He knows he could talk to his best friend right then. He knows he could make the cold go away. He opens his mouth-

_("-I want you to find him, and_ **_show him the door._ ** _")_

_("Yes Mr. President.")_

-and closes again with enough hurt to produce an audible click.

He takes his hand away from his mouth and lets the image of Tubbo blur into a dull haze.

_"To..._

_Tommy please."_

_"Tommy where..._

_where are you?"_

He hates that he knows Tubbo well enough to recognize the stutters and the way the whisper reaches him like static as Tubbo crying, as him being unable to keep his shaking voice quiet enough for all of the message to come through clearly. He hates that it just keeps getting worse as Tubbo keeps whispering, keeps getting more desperate, more terrified, more pained.

Some part of him hates himself for just letting it happen, for letting himself ignore the fact that his friend was so obviously distressed.

He hates a lot of things today, he finds.

The whispers stop at some point.

He feels so cold.


End file.
